The New Girl
by bmsbobcat24
Summary: AU: Fang has always been withdrawn and cold, thanks to an abusive, drunk father and a mother who's never home. Will the new girl at school, who's not so new, open him up, or will Fang be destined to live in his shell forever? Some Fax love triangles and a sprinkle of Niggy if you squint really hard.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is my first story, so I would appreciate the R&R a lot! I'll try to update every week!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the MR characters (though I wish I did!)**

* * *

**Fang's POV**

_Buzzzzzzzzzzzz!_

I bolt up in bed and slap my alarm clock. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I stumbled to my drawer and throw on a pair of sweats and my tech shirt. Quietly, I creep out my door past Nudge's room and clomp down the stairs. Grabbing my keys and my iPod, I slip out the door into the chilly morning air.

My breath shoots out in little white puffs as I race across the grass and down the road to the park. Keeping a fast pace, I raced across the damp grass and over the slippery gravel. Making a big circle around the park, I noticed another person my age running ahead of me. OK, no average teenager is up at six in the morning running in the park. Dirty blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, with running shorts and a tech shirt. She looked vaguely familiar, so I assumed she went to another school. But the only other high school around besides mine was at least ten miles away. She didn't look _that_ tired.

She turned, and I got a decent look at her face. She was fair-skinned with high cheekbones and a determined gaze. Her eyes were either light brown or hazel. She was breathing hard, and her face was streaked with sweat. She kept running the other direction. I was tempted to follow her, but I glanced at the sky and noticed the sun was rising. I turned on my heel and jogged back to my house. As I jogged, my usually clear mind was clouded with one thought.

Who _was _that girl?

* * *

When I got home, I quickly showered and changed. I stood in front of the mirror for a long time, studying my face. I hadn't really taken a good look at myself since I was younger. What stared back at my was a boy with olive-toned skin and dark eyes. There is a splash of freckles across my nose, and my long bangs hang down the right side of my face. Slight bags under my eyes are the result of staying up too late and getting up to early to run. I'm six feet tall, and, thanks to my very sudden growth spurt, am quite clumsy when I walk. I tower awkwardly over my fellow juniors. My feet are too big and legs too long, but I guess I should be grateful I'm not short like Nudge, who looks nothing like the sophomore she's supposed to be.

Monique (aka Nudge) is my younger sister, although you could never tell. With her mocha-colored skin, brown hair with pale highlights, and short height, we look nothing alike accept for our dark eyes, and even that's a stretch. Her eyes are wide and innocent with a kind softness to them. My eyes are steely and cold; they never betray any emotions. They say the eyes reflect the soul. I say those people had no idea what they were talking about. Take my wretched father, for instance. His eyes are soft and warm when he looks at Nudge or my mother. When he looks at me, they're cold and vicious and angry. He did tell me that I was the failure of the family. I couldn't agree more. Lousy grades, poor social standings, terrible at any sport that requires a ball or team skills.

My mother, on the other hand, has a beautiful face, marred by the stress from keeping our family afloat when my broke-ass father goes off on a drinking spree in Las Vegas or somewhere. Her eyes are always kind and welcoming, but are sometimes tired and worn out. She's only 42, but she's already growing gray hairs. My sister is the spitting image of my mother when she was her age. I, as much as I hate it, resemble my father when he was a teenager. I hope to not turn out like him, a drunk failure of a father making his wife hold up the family. That is, if I ever get married or have kids.

Anyway, I while I was staring at myself in the mirror, my sister began banging on the door, demanding the use of the bathroom. I yank open the door and shuffle past her. I trotted into the kitchen and found a note from my hard working mother. It read:

_Fang-_

_There is bacon on the table and toast in the freezer. Eggs are in the refrigerator and cereal's in the cupboard. Please eat something this morning. Have a good day at school!_

_Love, _

_Mom_

Well, another day without saying bye to mom before going to school. Today is Wednesday, so she'll be working a double shift and a night job. Meaning she won't be home until at least midnight. I let out a soft sigh and begin the process of making breakfast.

* * *

At 7:30, Iggy showed up at our front door, like always. By then, Nudge and I were finished with breakfast. Iggy is my best friend, and has been since we were in kindergarten. His legal name is James, but no one even remembers that anymore. I'm pretty sure Iggy's forgotten his own name. When we were younger, we used to tell people that we were brothers. Back then it was cute. Now, we looked almost nothing alike, except for our massive height. Iggy's hair is strawberry blonde, almost as pale as his skin tone. He even more clumsy than me, always tripping over his feet. His personality never really changed; it's always been full of sarcastic remarks and smirks. My mother used to say he was a like a breath of fresh air. I'd say he's more like a fart: loud, obnoxious, but can always get you to laugh no matter what the situation. That really came in handy when I was ten and my dad started his drinking sprees that left us almost broke.

Right now, Iggy was giving me one of infamous his half-smirks. Infamous because that could mean that he either 1) has or hid a stink bomb in the vicinity or 2) he's going to noogie you. Thankfully, it was the latter.

"Hey Fang!" he shouted before promptly giving me a harsh noogie. "How's it goin', pal?"

"Fine," I grunted from inside Iggy's armpit, which did not smell fresh at all.

Iggy finally released me and glanced sheepishly at Nudge, who was giggling behind me.

"H-hi Nudge," he stuttered. Whoa, since when did Iggy stutter?

Nudge pushed her way past us, running down to the sidewalk. "C'mon, guys!" she called. "We're gonna be late if you don't hurry up!"

We caught up to Nudge just as a bike came racing down the path.

"Nudge, watch out!" Iggy tackle her onto the grass as I jumped out of the way. The biker sped past us, and called, "Sorry!" over their shoulder. As I watched the biker ride, I realized it was that girl who I saw this morning in the park!

_Why do I keep seeing her? _I thought, thorough confused.

I looked over at Iggy, who had stumbled to his feet and was helping Nudge up.

"What was that all about?" Nudge exclaimed. "I mean, don't they know the speed limit? And who rides their bike to school anyway? Everyone knows the bike racks aren't safe because last year, Sasha told me..." Subconsciously, Nudge started walking, leaving me and Iggy to jog after her.

_Well, _I thought _the day's sure going to be interesting._


	2. Chapter 2

We met Gazzy and Angel outside the school. Gazzy is short for "the Gasman", which is short for Zephyr. The Gasman is known for his life-threatening farts. Hence the nickname, if you haven't already caught on. He and Angel are identical twins, but all you had to do was look at them and you could tell. With their pale skin, baby blue eyes, and blonde curls, you could hardly tell them apart if it weren't for puberty. Their personalities are not even close to similar. Gazzy likes to hang out with Iggy, and between the stink bombs and the farts, the room smells terrible with both of them in it. Iggy is Gazzy's role model (not a very good choice, I would say), so his sarcastic attitude has totally rubbed off on Gazzy.

Angel, on the other hand, is anything but an Angel. She and Nudge have been friends since kindergarten, when they both dressed up as princesses for Halloween and almost killed each other fighter over who was the better princess. They both joined the drama club in middle school and were the co-captains of eighth-grade volley ball team. They've done pretty much everything together, now that I think about it.

Anyway, Gazzy and Angel were currently in a heated debate whether Nikes or Adidas were better. We could hear them from across the street. They're known for having, um, lively arguments.

"Adidas are waaaay better than Nikes!" Gazzy shouted.

"Nikes could totally kick Adidas' ass!" Angel retorted. She turned to face us as we approached. "Nudge is with me, right Nudge?"

"Yeah! Wait, what am I agreeing to?"

Gazzy turned to Iggy, his eyes pleading. "Iggy's on my side, right Iggy?"

"Uh, sure Gaz, whatever you say." Iggy glanced at me nervously.

Angel whirled on me, her eyes angry and hopeful at the same time. "The decider is Fang!" she exclaimed.

My eyes darted between Iggy and Angel. I hated being the decider. I hated being put on the spotlight even more. My style is to blend in and to not stand out.

Suddenly, the bell rang. Wow, really "saved by the bell". What a coincidence, if I believed in coincidences. I gave a non-committal shrug and marched up the stairs and through the double doors. School is starting. Yippee. (And for those of you who couldn't tell, that was sarcastic.)

* * *

My first class of the day I share with Iggy. AP English. Now, how could someone with low grades like mine possibly get into an AP class, you wonder? The answer: I'm actually pretty smart. Gasp! The only thing that brings my grade down is my lack of participation and willingness to finish homework and projects. But last year I somehow managed to scrape by with a B- and make it into AP English. Yay for me.

The first thing I noticed when I walked into class was a certain blonde talking to my teacher. Yep, you guessed it. It was that girl I saw this morning!

I took my seat in the back, keeping an eye on the girl. As the bell rang, the teacher walked to the front of the classroom with the girl in tow.

"Class, today we have a new student." the teacher announced. "Her name is Maximum Ri-"

"Just Max." the girl, Max, cut in.

The teacher paused to make a note on her attendance sheet, then continued. "Right. Ms. Ride, will you please take a seat next to Mr. Martinez?"

Max nodded and looked to where the teacher pointed. Her eyes widened when she recognized me and slid into the seat next to me. The teacher went on with the lesson, but I couldn't pay attention. Max had changed since the eighth grade. Since we kissed.

* * *

It was after Max's going away "party". Since I'm not much a party-goer, I was helping Max's family pack boxes into the moving van. We were sitting on the hill behind Max's house, trying to spend Max's last few hours together.

"OK, OK," Max choked out between fits of laughter, "What if I, like, end up being a teenager mutant ninja Max or something?"

"Or be kidnapped and experimented on and end up growing wings?" We both exploded with howling, side-splitting laughing that echoed off into the endless, silence.

Suddenly, Max's phone buzzed in her pocket. As soon as she checked it, her smile disappeared.

"Look Fang, my mom wants to leave now, so I really have to go."

"Wait," I grabbed her hand before she could even take a step. "I-I made this for you." I pulled out a CD from my jacket pocket. Max's smile came back, but it was a sad one. Not the one I was hoping for.

Max opened her mouth to respond, but just to our luck her mother marched up the hill.

"There you are!" she huffed. "Maximum Batchelder you have five minutes to say good-bye to Nicholas. Five minutes, and five minutes only!" She turned and marched back down the hill, leaving us to follow her. At the bottom of the hill, Max turned to me.

"Well, I guess this is good-bye." Her voice cracked at the end and she cleared her throat.

"Yeah, I guess it is." I wasn't surprised to hear my voice sound so hoarse.

Suddenly, Max closed the small gap between us and captured my lips in hers. Well, more like brushed her lips against mine, but you get the idea.

As spontaneously as it started it ended. Max pulled away and ran towards the moving van, leaving me standing on the curb absolutely speechless.

* * *

**AN: Sorry if it's not as good, but I just had to throw some Fax in there! Next chapter, we'll find how Max and Fang met! **

**Max: Do I get cookies?**

**Me: Uh, suuure.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: So, remember last week when I said I'd include a story of when Max and Fang met? Well, let's just say things didn't go as planned. I didn't think it was right to add in now. Don't worry, it'll come. **

**Thanks soooooo much for the reviews and the follows! It really means a lot to me that you've taken time out of your day just to read my story. I'll try to update frequently! **

**Disclaimer: No matter how hard I try, I will, never, ever, own Maximum Ride.**

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Max's POV

Seeing Fang for the first time in three years was shocking. He had grown up so much since I had moved. He was a gangly kid in eighth grade, like his arms and legs were growing too fast for the rest of his body. Now, he seems to have grown into his long limbs, and even though he's slouched in his seat, I could tell he grew at least half a foot. His bangs were long now, flopping across his face. His expression was full of surprise and a little confusion. I bet he didn't think I'd ever come back.

I took my seat next to Fang, pretending to pay attention as the teacher began the lesson. Iggy, on the other side of me, poked me and passed me a note. He pretty much looked the same as he did in eighth grade, maybe a couple inches taller. I opened the note, which read:

_OMG Max you're back! What's your schedule?_

I grinned and scrawled down a reply. Nonchalantly, I leaned down to "grab" something from my backpack and flicked the note into Iggy's lap. The rest of class was pretty much just Iggy and I passing notes back and forth. I kept glancing at Fang, hoping he would say something. He just slouched in his seat, eyes trained on the board in front.

When the bell rang, Fang popped up and raced out of the classroom. I turned to Iggy, who was staring at the door.

"What's with him?" I asked, as we exited the classroom.

Iggy frowned. "He normally doesn't do that." Suddenly, Iggy smirked. "Maybe he was running from you."

I punched Iggy on the shoulder, but secretly I thought that was true. I know my kissing him probably meant that we would never see each other again. Like a good-bye kiss. I can understand why Fang might be confused. I still don't know why I kissed him that day, and I may never know. Still, it wasn't like Fang to run from a problem.

"Oh well," Iggy shrugged. "We have next class with him. I don't know what he's running from."

Next class was science, and I ended being Fang's lab partner. It was really awkward since Fang was concentrated on not messing up the chemicals and I was just watching. Eventually it got to the point where the tension was so unbearable I had to do something.

"Hey," I nudged him. He glanced up at me, then went back to his chemical mixing. I poked him hard in the bicep, surprised at how hard it was.

"Hey!" I called, louder this time. Fang looked up, irritated.

"What do you want?" he snarled. Whoa. His voice had gotten waaaay deeper.

"Nothing. I was just wondering why you won't talk to me."

He turned back to his chemicals, replying harshly, "I don't see how talking will help me right now. Unless you know which one is hydrochloric acid." Seeing as I had no answer, he turned away.

I spun him around to face me. "What's going on Fang?" I yelled. I was aware that the tables around us had stopped and were staring at us, but I didn't care. "You haven't said one word to me since I came back! Is there something going on that I should know?!"

Iggy appeared next to me. "Hey, guys, let's just calm down so we can get on with our day."

"I agree." Fang deadpanned and turned away. I yanked him around again.

"We're not finished yet!" I yelled.

"Actually, you are." A cold voice answered from behind. I whirled around to face the teacher.

"If you can't keep appropriate voices in the classroom, then maybe you'd better take this down to the office. Your choice."

Fang kept silent, so I had to be the bigger person and mutter back an apology. When the teacher left, I pulled Fang's ear down to my level and growled, "This isn't over!"

The rest of the period flew by, and I had a free period next with (guess who?) Captain Sunshine and his assistant Sarcasm Boy. When Iggy and I walked in the classroom, I saw a red-headed girl approach Fang, who was standing in the back of the classroom. They exchanged greetings, hers flirty, his curt. Then, Trotsky out of the blue, she pushed herself flush against him and molded her lips against his. I waited for Fang to push her away, but that bastard angled his head so that one kiss became a full on make-out session. I was absolutely speechless. Watching them kiss made my heart ache and my fists clench. Iggy stood next to me, his jaw practically dragging on the ground. Feeling a bubble of rage and the urge to break something, I whispered into Iggy's ear, "Roof in ten" and sprinted out the door.

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**AN: It kinda seems like a cliffhanger, doesn't it? R&R please!**

**Max: I never got my cookies.**

**Me: Patience, young grasshopper. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Fang's POV**

One minute I'm sitting at my desk, the next minute some girl is latched on to me like a blood-sucking leech. As most guys my age would do, I kissed back involuntarily. Then I came to my senses and shoved her away. She gave me a hurt look that was totally fake.

"What's wrong, Nicky?" she pouted.

I was taken aback, extremely revolted. "Don't call me Nicky! I don't even know you! Do you think you can just walk up to any guy and kiss him and expect a good reaction?"

I was down the hall and climbing onto the roof within a minute. Anger flooded my veins, making me move smoother, faster. I had a sudden urge to break something. When I clambered onto the roof, I saw someone else had beat me there. It was Max. Figures she would run here. This was where we met.

* * *

It was a cold Christmas Eve night. My dad had just come back from a club, drunk and unstable. And with another woman. My mother was out shopping for tomorrow's dinner, thank God. He was so drunk he couldn't remember who I was when I walked in on him. Such a scarring sight for a boy of 8 years old. I remember running out of the house into the cold night, and somehow ending up on the roof of the high school in my footy pajamas. While I lay wrapped up in the fetal position, I thought _Well, this is the end. I'm going to die, and I didn't even tell Mommy I loved her this morning. _

For some crazy reason, Max was wandering around the school, seeing as her father was a teacher, and somehow ended up on the roof. In my state of partial hypothermia, I remember seeing a girl my age run over to me and put a down jacket on me. Then she ran away and returned with her father. I passed out after that, but when I woke up, I was laying in a hospital bed with a very distraught mother sitting in a chair next to me. When she saw me, she hugged me apologizing through her tears, saying it was all her fault. I never believed her.

Max and her father, Jeb, visited me later, bearing flowers. I never really cared for flowers (all they do is die) but my mother accepted them gratefully and thanked him over and over. While they were talking, Max, in her fluffy down jacket, walked over to my bedside.

"I'm Max." She grinned, showing a gap in her front teeth. "What's your name?"

Even as I child, I wasn't very chummy with other kids. I also hated my name, since it was my father's. So I remembered _While Fang_, a book my mother had read to me a long time ago that changed my life forever. It was also the main reason I hated other people.

"Fang," I replied. "My name is Fang."

* * *

She turned to me, her eyes blazing with anger, her mouth twisted in a mocking smirk

"Look what the cat dragged in," she sneered. "Didn't know you were so popular with the ladies, Fang. Who's your new girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend. Why?" I hissed through clenched teeth.

Max's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "Gee, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you two looked good together. Or maybe because you were practically SUCKING HER OFF HER FACE." She tried to brush it off like she was okay with any of this, but I could see the hurt in her eyes. Unfortunately, in my angered state, I took advantage of that weakness.

"What, jealous?" I snarled, fists clenched and eager to fight. "I didn't think you were actually a girl, Max."

She laughed bitterly, turning away. "Didn't think so either." she muttered, almost to herself. "Maybe I am jealous, maybe I'm not. Not like I would tell you anything."

I stepped back, realizing that I had taken it overboard. "I'm sorry," I sputtered out quickly. "I didn't mean it like that-"

She spun around, eyes blazing with fury despite the tears. "Save it, Fang!" She stomped away.

"Wait!" But it was too late. I plopped down on the concrete roof, holding my head in my hands hopelessly.

_God, what did I do wrong?_

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**AN: This chapter is kinda short, compared to my last chapters. BTW I've never read _White Fang _(by Jack London), but it's high on my list of books to read, next to the next book in the MR series! If you're an Avatar: The Last Airbender fan, I'm starting a story soon under that category, so stay tuned. Here's a question: Which is better, ATLA or LoK? Zutarian or Kataanger? Makorra or Borra? Comment, review, follow/favorite, all that good stuff!**

**-Bobcat**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: In the making of this chapter, I was inspired by a couple of TV shows. So, technically, part of this story isn't mine. And if any of you happen to frequent Disney Channel or anime shows, you might recognize some allusions. Comment if you do!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride (that's James Patterson), or _Lemonade Mouth _(Disney does) or _Ouran High School Host Club_ (Bisco Hatori does). _  
_**

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**Fang's POV**

Before I knew it, the morning had flown by and lunchtime was "upon us", according to Iggy. We made our way down to the music room, being jostled around like rag dolls. Normally, outcasts like Iggy, the Gasman, and I were bullied by everyone down at the cafeteria, even the teachers. (Angel and Nudge had somehow worked their ways up the social ladder.) So we planned to hang out at the music room instead, since no one ever uses it anymore. Our school's music program is almost unheard of, what with all the bonehead jocks ruling our school.

"Gosh, Gazzy sure is late today," Iggy and I were the first to arrive at the music room. The Gasman is usually early to lunch.

Suddenly, the door burst open and the Gasman ran in followed by the entire football team. The Gasman's hands were covered in black soot, and the jocks' hair was singed off.

"Come back here you little twit!"Dylan (the team captain) tackled the Gasman to the floor and began pummeling him with his fists. The others joined in, forming a circle around the Gasman. Iggy and I shuffled around to find an opening, but to no avail.

Finally Iggy yelled, "Screw this!" and leaped into the fray. He got a couple good punches in until the other jocks ganged up on him. I followed Iggy, successfully breaking through thanks to ten years of martial arts training. Behind me, I heard the Gasman bellow and turned just in time to see him kick a jock where "the sun don't shine". Ouch.

I was toe-to-toe with Sam (the smallest of the team, but still strong enough to take you down), exchanging blows with cat-like reflexes. Sam's punches were slow, but powerful, easy to dodge. Just the way I like it. I popped in with a quick jab followed by a swift roundhouse kick to his thigh. He stumbled and tried to throw his hands up. Too slow. I flashed out a vicious back kick to his open gut. He doubled over, gasping for air. I grabbed his head and kneed him in the face. He reared back like an angry bull, bloody nostrils flaring. He bared his teeth and suddenly lunged at me. Sam's momentum and weight was enough to send us both crashing to the ground. We wrestled, each trying to gain the upper hand. Sam pinned me under him and slugged me in the mouth. His next punch was aimed at my gut; the following at my face. I threw my arms up to protect my face, realizing how many bruises I would have but not caring.

Ten feet away, Dylan pinned Iggy to the floor, punching him relentlessly. Another jock stood next to Iggy, kicking him viciously in the ribs. The Gasman was swinging a trombone in a wide circle, keeping the jocks at a safe distance.

Out of nowhere the emergency sprinklers went off, soaking us within seconds. The fire alarm blared, scaring the jocks away. I sat up slowly, wincing. Standing by the emergency fire alarm was a very worried, very angry Max. She rushed over to Iggy, who was wiping the blood off of his face. We crowded around Iggy.

"Are you okay? Does anything hurt?" Max barked frantically.

"Where's the blood coming from?" the Gasman wondered.

"I'm fine!" Iggy yelled, standing.

"But you won't be, after I'm done with you," a steely cold voice answered behind us. Iggy spun around until he was face-to-face with the devil himself: the principal, Mr. Pruitt.

* * *

**AN: Such a short chapter! :( This week was suuuuuper busy for me. I'll try to update on a regular basis from now on. Oh, one more thing! What is your favorite character in Maximum Ride? Comment, review, follow/favorite, all that good stuff!**

**-Bobcat**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: This chapter is longer, and hopefully better than the last one! Please remember to review, because I'm writing this story for all of you, not just for my own entertainment. Thanks! （≧∇≦）**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride. Just pieces of the characters.**

* * *

**Max's POV**

After school, we stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the principal's office, watching a soggy Mr. Pruitt pacing angrily back and forth in front of his desk. I glanced over at the rest of the "flock". Gazzy, on the far left, was twiddling his thumbs (literally) and rocking back and forth and his heels. Iggy was tinkering with something, pulling out nuts and bolts from his pockets at random. (I've always wondered where he found all that stuff.) Fang stood stiffly beside me, his sharp eyes following Mr. Pruitt's movements.

Mr. Pruitt walked around and sat down at his desk. His beady eyes focused on Iggy, and he banged his hand on the desk, making us all jump.

"Mr. Patterson, if you would so kind as to put away that crap you are messing with?"

Iggy stuffed his project into his pocket. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Now that I have your undivided attention," Mr. Pruitt folded his hands. "I'd like to issue your punishments." He pulled a small book out of his desk. "According to the student handbook, a student who has vandalized and/or broken into school property will be punished with at least two months of Saturday detention and at most a suspension, not to mention the punishment for instigating a fight. I can also expel you for pulling the fire alarm."

My heart stopped dead in my throat. Expelled? I hadn't even been here a day! Dad would kill me! I shot Iggy a desperate glance. He nodded and jumped right in.

"Mr. Pruitt, I think you have the wrong story. Max, my friend here, just tripped and didn't know there was a fire alarm there. Heck, I don't even know there was a fire alarm there!" Iggy pointed out. "Besides, we didn't instigate anything. We're totally innocent!"

"Very amusing, Mr. Patterson," Mr. Pruitt deadpanned.

"I'm serious! You got the wrong person here!"

"Prove it."

Iggy stopped short. Talking his way out of sticky situations is something he's good at. Proving something? Not so much. This is where I jump in.

"Honestly, Mr. Pruitt, I didn't know there was a fire alarm! My hand slipped, and I hit it." I put on my best innocent face, like I used to do as a kid. Not so successful as a teenager.

"Any witnesses?" Gosh, what was this guy, a lawyer? Of course, I had nothing to say.

"I saw!" Gazzy yelled. Good old Gazzy, just the way I taught him.

"I did too," Fang added quietly. I glanced over and he gave me a slight smile that made my heart skip a beat. _Calm down, _I told myself. _Not the time to get all boy crazy! Besides, Fang already has girls throwing themselves at him. He doesn't need another one._

After a moment of tense silence, Mr. Pruitt rose and walked slowly around his desk to stand in front of us, hands clasped behind his back like he was a soldier.

"I'll call all of your parents tonight to discuss your punishments." He pointed to the door, dismissing us. Iggy saluted and marched out the door mockingly, drawing uncharacteristic giggles out of me.

* * *

As soon as we were out of sight from the office, Fang smacked Gazzy upside the head.

"OW! What the hell was that for?" Gazzy yelled, clutching his head.

"Yeah, Fang," Iggy said. "What was that for?"

"Rule #6: 'Don't confront anyone without the rest of the Flock around'!" Fang growled.

Wow. I hadn't heard "the Flock" since I left. It was a name that we came up with when we were young, back when Angel and Nudge were in it. We had all gone to a bird sanctuary for Fang's eighth birthday, since birds were Fang's favorite animal. My dad was taking us since Fang's mom had to work to keep them from slipping further into debt. Such a hard working mother, even back then. Anyway, we had gone to the gift shop and Fang could pick out anything he wanted. It took him ten minutes of looking around the shop to find what he wanted: a shining hawk pin. Considerate Fang had asked my dad if we all could get one, so we did. I got a golden eagle pin, Iggy got an albatross. Nudge and Angel got matching swan pins and Gazzy got a bald eagle. I came up with the idea that we should call ourselves "the Flock". Everyone agreed, and the name stuck.

"They were being mean," The Gasman pouted and folded his arms like a little kid. "I had to do something. Wasn't that one of the Flock rules too?"

"He's got a point Fang," I said. "Rule #4: 'Don't let anyone disrespect you.'"

Fang whirled on me, his eyes blazing with sudden emotion. "What about Rule #5: 'Never abandon the Flock'? What ever happened to that?" he demanded. He stomped away, leaving us speechless. I turned to Iggy, who shrugged.

"Bringing up the Flock has always been hard for Fang ever since Nudge and Angel abandon us," Iggy explained. "I'm sure it's nothing personal."

How terribly wrong Iggy can be. He really doesn't understand my and Fang's relationship, and quite frankly neither do I. Fang has changed since eighth grade, and not just physically. He's become more withdrawn, more moody. He seems upset too. What's going on?

"Hey, Max," Iggy said, drawing me out of my thoughts. "Are you walking home with us or are you riding your bike home?"

"I guess I'll just walk my bike alongside you guys," I said, turning towards the bike racks.

"Meet us at the front entrance!" Iggy called over his shoulder as he ran after Gazzy, who was running towards the front of the school. Fang had disappeared.

I was unlocking my bike when something shiny on my bike caught my eye. I walked over and picked it up, inspecting it closely. It was the golden eagle pin I had left here, with a note that read:

_Keep it. You're no longer part of the Flock._


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I know I'm not suppose to take up a chapter just for an author's note, but I'm willing to take a chance. And I know I've updated late but I'm having a sort of writer's block, and stress from the end of the quarter and an upcoming tournament at UC Davis and friend/boy troubles. Depending on the course of the story, I'm unsure of whether I'll keep it going or not.**** I'm just not feeling the plot yet, and I'm trying to add some excitement into the story so it's not just Max and Fang in school doing school things. If I don't update, it's probably because of a writer's block. Thanks so much for the support so far, and I'll try to improve from here on out!**

**-Bobcat**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride because if I did, Max and Fang would have been making out at least in the third book.**

* * *

**Max's Pov**

Well, that was totally unexpected. It doesn't take Sherlock freaking Holmes to figure out that Fang had just un-friended me in real life. Hot tears burned in my eyes, and I blinked them backed. I shoved the note and pin in my pocket and sped off on my bike. I had no idea where I was going, and honestly I couldn't care less. I thought Fang of all people would be ecstatic to see me back, but it turned out to be the exact opposite!

I rode straight, following the sidewalk. When it turned, I turned. After about an hour, my front tire hit something on the sidewalk and my bike flipped. Of course, I went with it. I crashed down a (convenient) hill, tumbling head over heels until I splashed into a (very convenient) stream.

"Shit!" I swore as I leaped onto the sandy bank. I did a quick mental sweep of myself. My jeans were torn, and my knee was gushing out blood. I had a thorn stuck somewhere on my arm and cuts on my hands and I'm pretty sure I was sitting in poison ivy. I could feel a split in my lip and a cut on my cheek stinging. My helmet did little to shield my head, and I was very aware of the pounding in my temples. I tossed the helmet in the stream and yanked out the thorn on my arm. What next? Oh, yeah, where was I? From my position on the ground, I took in my surroundings. In front of me, there was a little stream, where I had fallen in. I looked right and saw the stream flowing off into the distance. Ivy and thorns lined the stream, with an occasional sandy bank. Further downstream was a small dam made of rocks. Behind me was the steep hill where I had fallen down. I was covered in grass, weeds, and thorns.

I staggered to my feet and made my way slowly downstream to where my backpack was. Next to it was my bike, and from what I could see, the front tire had been popped. I fished my backpack out and dumped its contents out on the shore. When my backpack was empty, I tossed it on the ground and took inventory. All my homework papers were soaked, and my phone was shorted out. I pocketed some granola bars, a package of fruit snacks, and my Swiss army knife. _  
_

"Lost?"

I leaped back at least ten feet and spun around. Standing behind me was boy about my age. He had sandy-blonde hair that fell across his face like a curtain of gold and his eyes were bluer than the Pacific. He was a head taller than me and looked like he was made of all muscle. His shirt was pulled tight across his broad chest, and his biceps filled the shirt sleeves. He was wearing shorts, so I could see his well toned calves. I suddenly became very self-conscious of my hair.

"Are you lost?" he repeated, his expression worried. I noticed he had a faint accent, which only improved his hotness.

"Um, yeah," My voice squeaked, and I cleared my throat awkwardly. "I mean, yeah, I'm lost."

He nodded thoughtfully and pointed up the hill. "Didn't you fall from up there?"

"Yeah," I said, blushing. Gosh, I must look like a total klutz.

He grinned and chuckled. "Don't worry, you're not a klutz,"

Did he just say what I think he just said? Who is this guy?

"Yeah, I did. And I prefer to be called Dylan, not 'this guy'."

"OK, what is going on here?" I exclaimed. Thunder sounded overhead. We looked up just as rain began falling slowly.

"C'mon, let's get out of this rain!" he yelled and reached for my hand. I pulled back quickly.

"Why would I run away with a complete stranger I just met? And what's going on with the whole mind reading thing?" I demanded.

"We're not complete strangers, Max," he said, exasperated. " About the mind reading thing, I'll explain when we get to my house. Now, c'mon, before we both catch a cold."

Before I could protest, he grabbed my hand and we raced off into the forest.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: I'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRY I'M SOSOSOSOSOSO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED SOONER! I had quizzes and tests and last minute projects and homework and stress and papers and sosososo much stress and I know that's not a real excuse but it's what I'm going with.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride...yet**

* * *

**Fang's POV**

We were standing outside the school, waiting for Max, when Nudge got the call.

"Hello?" she answered. "Yes, why?"

I walked over to stand next to her, intrigued at who might be calling. She listened, then suddenly turned pale and clapped her hand over her mouth. Tears ran down her face. I snatched the phone from her hand.

"Who the hell is this and why is my sister crying?" I growled into the phone.

"This is the police," a nasally voice answered. "Are you related to Valencia Martinez?"

I blinked, confused. "Yeah, I'm her son, Nick. What's this all about?"

"This afternoon, your mother suffered from congestive cardiac failure. She's currently in the emergency room, but her condition is unknown. We-"

I dropped the phone, stunned. Mom was hurt? Why? Iggy bent down and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" Iggy paused, listening. "Yes, they're right here. No, not that we know of. Yes, in front of the school. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. OK, thank you sir."

Iggy hung up and handed the phone back to a stunned Nudge.

"The officer says he'll pick us up in front of the school and take us to the hospital. We just have to wait here."

We moved to sit down on the front steps, when we heard a clap of thunder and rain began to pour down in sheets. Iggy and Nudge retreated under the trees, but I stayed on the steps, glaring up into the rain, hoping it would hide my tears.

* * *

It took us five minutes of straight out sprinting to reach Dylan's house. It was simple; two story, four bedrooms, with a nice back porch and overhanging shingles to keep us dry as we caught our breath. Dylan fumbled with his keys to the back door, muttering curses, then shoved open the door. Instantly, the smell of meat cooking filled my nostrils, warm and succulent, causing my mouth to water. We stepped into a small kitchen, then Dylan ran off to get towels and dry clothes. I stood on the welcome mat, dripping wet, trying to take in my surroundings. He had given me his jacket, and I held it tugged it tight around me, surrounded by his smell.

Above my head, I heard deep voices and heavy footsteps. A short man dressed in a lab coat clomped into the kitchen, muttering something about hamsters. He brushed right past me and continued to the stove, where he stirred whatever was in the pan. I cleared my throat not-so-subtly, and he spun around, holding the wooden spoon up defensively. His brown eyes glared at me from behind wire-framed glasses.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my kitchen?" He had a foreign accent, European I suppose. Russian? German?

"I, uh," I held my hands up in surrender and slowly backed away from the scary European dude. Unfortunately, there was a door behind me. Rats.

Just in time, Dylan walked in, carrying towels and and a change of clothes. He was wearing a "Linkin Park" shirt **(****AN: LOVE THEM!) **and a clean pair of jeans. His hair was still damp, turning it to a golden brown color. He stopped and surveyed the situation unfolding in the kitchen.

"Oh, Dad, I see you've met Max," Dylan said, managing a weak smile. "Max, this is my dad-"

"Dr. Gunther-Hagen," Dylan's dad straightened up, with an expression that was half pride, half embarrassment. He didn't look anything like Dylan. He was pale, and short, unlike Dylan. He had brown eyes and a thin brown moustache, unlike Dylan. His thinning gray hair looked nothing like Dylan's soft, downy, blonde hair. Did I just say that?

He turned to Dylan. "Why did you not inform me that you were bringing a young lady home? I would have cooked more squabs!"

Okay, what the hell was a squab? Dylan locked his blue gaze on me, his eyes mischievous.

"A squab is a small pigeon," he said, reading my thoughts with his creepy mind tricks. "It's better than it sounds."

Wow, this guy never ceased to amaze me. Kind of creepy, though.

"You can stay for dinner, if you want." Dylan turned to his dad. "Right, Dad?"

"Actually," I butted in. "I think I should go home. Do you have a phone to call my dad?"

"Yeah," Dylan's eyes dropped to the floor. "It's in the hall. I'll show you."

As we walked to the hall, he handed me a towel. I grabbed it and swung his jacket off, reluctant to give it back. The phone was an old fashion wall phone, with the spinning dial and everything. I grabbed the phone and dialed my dad's number. He picked up after the second ring.

"Maximum Ride Batchelder where the hell are you? Iggy called to tell me you were biking home and when you didn't show up I called the police they're probably out there looking for you and WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"

I winced. "Sorry, Dad-"

"DON'T YOU 'SORRY DAD' ME, YOUNG LADY! YOU WILL COME HOME RIGHT THIS MINUTE!"

"Okay, but Dad?" I said weakly. "What's our address, again?"


End file.
